Musings
by greywolfheir
Summary: For the prompt given to me by Holly (dirtycastiel) to incorporate the quote "We create, therefore we live" (by Jean Louis) into a fic.


There's a conversation Sam remembers one night. It's a typical night. He and Dean are on the road doing a hunt, and nothing unusual—except the usual—has happened. Sam is in that mussed state just before going to sleep where all your thoughts begin to swirl around in your head and you think of things you haven't thought of in forever. Except this is different—because Sam doesn't remember _having _this conversation and not just in a "it was so long ago I forgot" but as in "this conversation never happened". Because it _couldn't_ have happened…because Sam only met Gabriel four times in his life and he remembers all of their conversations and he especially remembers that Gabriel was never wearing a bright red suit in any of the times they talked. In fact, that was the first thing Sam noticed in the memory too.

"What's with the suit?"

"Let's call it my uniform." Gabriel is pacing a room but he stops to straighten the lapels. "It's not my favorite thing to wear, but I make do."

"Right, and…why haven't you worn it before?"

"Because I wasn't dead before, Sammy."

Sam—present Sam—gasps and opens his eyes. He's still in the hotel room, Dean's soft snores sounding off somewhere to his left. For a second, Sam thinks it was a dream but the memory continues, in a way that dreams can't, and Sam quickly shuts his eyes again.

"But if you're dead then…how am I talking to you?" That was memory-Sam.

"Oh Sam-o, _how_ many times have you seen me 'die'?" Gabriel motions the air quotes before pulling a lollipop out of his jacket.

"But…that video," Sam is getting more exasperated. "You _told_ us—"

"How many times have I told you, Sam?" Gabriel points to himself. "_Trickster_."

"Then why are you here—what makes you want to talk to me? Do you have any…oh I don't know _plans to stop the apocalypse?_" Present-Sam now understands that at least this happened before the apocalypse but honestly so much happened between Gabriel's death and then it's hard to pinpoint a date.

"Touchy, touchy," Gabriel says as the memory keeps playing. "Look, I already told you I was dead."

"But…" memory-Sam is growing increasingly frustrated and runs a hand through his hair. "But how are you talking to me?"

"Let's not focus on the facts, Sammy." Gabriel's grin speaks of knowing _exactly_ how much Sam hates ignoring facts. "Let's just talk—you and me."

"Why?" Sam demands immediately.

"Because I like talking and I like you," Gabriel says simply. "Besides, you won't remember this conversation anyway."

"Then why bother? If you're supposed to be dead, it can't have been easy to find me. Break a few rues getting here?"

"Well let's just say it's been a while since members of our kind have died in big numbers like this so the line for our death certificate is a little long, and I'm bored."

Sam isn't sure if Gabriel's being metaphorical but he doesn't want to ask. The archangel wasn't giving him straight answers and he's already confused as it is. Still…"So you wanted to talk to _me_? Of all people?"

It's Gabriel's turn to look frustrated. "Sam, if you haven't really noticed by now…not many angels go to the trouble of getting killed by their brother for just anyone."

"But why get killed at all? I mean Cas even called me an abomination and you said yourself that I'm the best match for Lucifer because I'm most like him, so _why_? What makes us worth it?"

"Cas really called you that?" Gabriel asks with a smile, but at Sam's glare he just laughs and continues. "Alright, alright, look. I'll tell you what I told Lucy—you guys are flawed…but you try." He laughs. "I mean, yeah you guys gave up paradise for one little fruit that—honestly?—wasn't worth it. But hey I can understand wanting your just desserts." As if to accentuate his point, Gabriel pulled out another lollipop. He laughed again. "Actually, you know that's a good point—you guys make the best things."

Sam raised an eyebrow when Gabriel didn't look like he was going to explain further.

"You don't get it, Sammy. Back home, we have all the things we need and even when me and my brothers come down for visits, we make do with what we have—or we bend the world to our will. But you guys _build_. You make things and even though you don't have the power that we do, you still manage to make the world yours. Dad told me something once, before Lucy became…what he is now—before you guys came along. You know it—the whole "Let there be light" thing. Well, us angels were a part of that—we came up with some of the things you have now. And Dad told me once 'We create, therefore we live'. I think that's one reason why I became a Trickster. Because after that scuffle with Lucifer, all the angels were punished and we had to sit back and watch you guys create all your little toys, songs, whatever and we were barely allowed to help. But as the Trickster—it's not the same, but I get to create." Gabriel's smile brightened gleefully. "Remember that crocodile I made back in Ohio? That was great."

"So you like humans because we...make things?" Sam asked

"No, no, that's just a small part of it," Gabriel explained. "But it's such a _big_ part too, you know? And that's the thing. Everything you guys do is huge. Yeah you might screw up a whole hell of a lot but…you fix it, or at least try to. And through it all you learn and recover and create a better you."

Sam winces at the insinuation. He remembers all the times he's screwed up and tried to fix his mistake only to cause more problems. "That still makes no sense."

Gabriel sighed. "I know you don't understand. You can't because you haven't seen the way people have changed over thousands of years. You don't truly realize how far you've come."

"Then explain it to me," Sam said. "Or show me, I don't know. Make me understand. You've got to be telling me this for a reason."

Gabriel shook his head. He looked sad. "I just wanted to talk, Sam-o. Like I said, you won't remember this anyway. It really isn't that important."

"But you just said it _was_," Sam demanded. He didn't know why but something in the way Gabriel was looking sad now was making him desperate.

"I have to go," Gabriel said, spinning around. "Looks like I'm next in line. See you sometime, gigantor."

"You can't just leave me like this!" Sam shouted.

When Gabriel turned around, there was something in his eyes Sam couldn't pinpoint—especially not when he was so angry. "I already told you, you won't remember this."

"That doesn't help!"

Gabriel shrugged, turned around, and disappeared, thus ending the memory.

Present-Sam was just as angry now as he was in the memory. Why the hell was he remembering it now? What even was the point of that conversation? There _had_ to be some supernatural force at work for that memory to come to mind. There was at least something that triggered it, right?

And then Sam got tired. Not the kind of tired after a rush of adrenaline or doing something strenuous. More like the tired of taking medicine that puts you to sleep—that _forces_ you to sleep. There was something doing this to him.

"No!" Sam shouted suddenly to the dark room. Dean made a snuffling noise like he'd heard Sam but didn't wake up. Sam was softer when he spoke again. "Gabriel if that's you—if you're back, don't make me forget again. Don't leave me again."

There was no response, and Sam was left to drift off to sleep with the feeling that he'd be seeing Gabriel again soon.


End file.
